


Nothing Satisfies Me But Your Soul

by prouvairablehulk



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6753292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairablehulk/pseuds/prouvairablehulk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it’s not in the plan, you can’t hold Len accountable when he loses his cool, right? Right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Satisfies Me But Your Soul

**Author's Note:**

> joker-quinn asked:  
> ColdWave. "Did you seriously just kill that vampire with a box of wet matches and a boot? I love you" au
> 
> which just proves that she is my favorite enabler

Leonard Snart is a good hunter, okay? Honestly, he is. It’s just that, occasionally, his plans collapse under themselves because there’s a vampire nest he hadn’t expected right next to the grave he’s been exhuming for most of the night in order to get rid of an angry spirit. 

If it’s not in the plan, you can’t hold Len accountable when he loses his cool, right? Right. 

Except now he’s got three vampires backing him into a corner where there’s a crypt (which almost certainly contains more vampires) and the only weapon he has is a shotgun loaded with rocksalt, which will do squat-all against any of the three. And just to make matters worse, he’d bounced his skull off the tombstone trying to get away in the first place. This is why most hunters have partners, Len realizes. Not that he ever will, because his baby sister is going to go to college and have a normal life untouched by this part of the world, and he trusts his father about half as far as he can bodily throw him (the bastard), and both of these are dependent on him getting out of this situation alive, and the odds on that were getting shorter by the second. 

And now Len is thinking in run-on sentences. Great. 

There’s a knife in Len’s boot, but pausing to reach down and grab it is going to give the still-advancing vampires just enough time to get the jump on him. Len has just started bracing himself for a shit load of pain while he gets his hand on the knife when there’s a scratch-hiss sound and a little flare of light over the shoulder of the center vampire. The two outside vamps turn, and that gives Len enough time to grab the knife in his boot and take out the one with its eyes still on him. In the meantime, however – 

There’s a man standing in the absolute mess that used to be two vampires, his hands coated in blood to about halfway up his forearms, firelight sparkling off the dripping liquid. And that’s about the point where Len’s higher brain functions shut down, because those are Len’s matches, and Len burnt that ghost with his lighter because those matches were soaked and also hello biceps. Len doesn’t lose his legendary cool often, but the man’s biceps look like they were carved from marble by a Greek sculptor aiming for Hercules, and like that same sculptor overshot it and added more muscle. Len would like to say, with all his very ice-cold heart, hot damn.

Also, when did Len start thinking in italics? He might be just a little concussed. Maybe a lot concussed. 

And in case the biceps and the matches weren’t enough, the man has apparently beaten the vampires into submission with a boot. As in, with his actual feet. Len can make out some very painful looking burn scars crawling up the man’s arms and neck, licking towards his shaved skull, ridges faintly visible through his thin grey Henley, and really, the sheer amount of sexual energy he’s exuding should be illegal. How does someone look that attractive while they literally have blood dripping off them? Len’s beginning to wonder if the cold bastards caught him, and someone made a clerical error, and he’s in heaven. Also, he’s concussed, so the guy might be a hallucination? 

“Be more careful, next time.” says Len’s wonderfully attractive hallucination, and then leaves. 

But here’s the thing – he can’t be a hallucination, because he keeps showing up to save Len. 

Three days after the vampire incident those biceps get put to good use pulling Len out of the way of a falling cabinet a poltergeist has just toppled. Two weeks after that and someone hands him a fallen silver bullet just in time for Len to load it so he can shoot a werewolf. Over the next month, he follows Len across five state lines, watches Len’s back on seven separate cases, and saves Len’s ass twice, once by stabbing a trickster god that was about to lay out their wrath on Len, and once by dropping another of Len’s soaked matches, miraculously lit, on a salted coffin. And after all of these incidents, he just disappears, leaving Len with limited, lingering memories. He smells like the sweet smoke from a wood fire. The scars are from severe burns, and still look like blisters in places. He seems to wear suspenders, at times (Len did not fantasize about pulling his mystery rescuer down by those suspenders). He has an anti-possession tattoo over his heart. Len didn’t know his name. Len actually has no idea why the man is helping him, and can’t shake the terrible idea that his father is trying to keep tabs on him. 

Len’s facing off against a particularly bitter and entrenched revenant in the bathroom of a Kansas City McMansion when his mystery man slams the thing’s head into a countertop and then char-grills it with a zippo lighter and a can of hairspray taken from the medicine cabinet. Len is done with the mystery exits, and shoves himself off the floor as the man turns to leave, catching him in the hall outside bathroom and shoving him against the wall with a grip on those fucking suspenders. 

“Who the fuck are you, and did my scumbag father send you?” he demands, shoving himself as far into the man’s personal space as possible. The man chuckles, and Len can feel it reverberating through his chest. Suddenly Len finds himself remembering why being this close to someone you’re reluctantly attracted to is a bad idea. 

“Name’s Mick.” offers Len’s mystery man – Mick. “And no, he didn’t.”

“Then why the hell are you following me?”

“You’ve got a rep, Snowflake. The best there is – but they say you’re going to get yourself killed, because even your brain can’t anticipate every outcome and you won’t take a partner.”

“What, and you decided to come save me from myself?”

Mick looks smug. 

“No one does that!” snaps Len, into Mick’s unfairly attractive smirk. Len’s the one who smirks. Not fucking mystery hunters who apparently think enough of Len’s skills to follow him around making sure he doesn’t die. 

“I do. It would be a crime to deprive the world of those baby blues, after all.”

Len had a cold comeback. Really, he did. He didn’t know what it was about Mick that burned away all his ability to be a sane human being. He knows his eyes are flicking between Mick’s own and Mick’s lips, and he knows he doesn’t actually have any leverage if the other man decides to make a move for freedom. When Mick does move, Len just holds on for dear life, reluctant to let his – his Mick leave without a fight. But rather than making for the stairs, Mick seems content with reversing their positions, pushing Len up against the wall by the front of his parka, letting the hood cushion the slam of Len’s body into the wall. 

“What do you say, then? Gonna let me ride shotgun?” asks Mick, voice gravel-low as his lips brush against Len’s ear. 

“What comes with shotgun?” Len manages to ask, over the fire burning through every part of his body. 

“What do you think, Snowflake?” 

Len gives in to the urge, and hauls Mick in by his suspenders in order to kiss him. When they part for air, Len pulls back far enough to ask a question.

“Did you really kill those vampires with wet matches and your boots?”

Mick quirks an eyebrow at him.

“I think I’m in love.”  
 


End file.
